


dissonance

by sorbetjin



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Bottom Park Jimin (BTS), Brainwashing, Cognitive Dissonance, Dark, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Kissing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fate & Destiny, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kim Taehyung | V & Park Jimin Are Best Friends, Kim Taehyung | V Is Whipped, LGBTQ Character, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Top Kim Taehyung | V, Tragic Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-19 17:26:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19137310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorbetjin/pseuds/sorbetjin
Summary: Taehyung doesn't believe in fate. How could he accept that all the bad things that happened to him was purely because of the will of the universe? He refuses to succumb to a life of mindlessness, simply waiting for the day he'd die.But nobody else seems to think like him.In a world where everything is pre-destined, Taehyung is running from it all. And in the midst of the chaos in his life, he meets Park Jimin.// dark!vmin au





	dissonance

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wanted to write a story whilst playing with the concept of fate, and I thought who better to do it with than vmin, the soulmates of the group?

“Why reject destiny? We were meant to be!”

   Taehyung surged forwards, feeling the rush of the harsh wind pushing his hair back; the burn in his knees as they threatened to crumble beneath him with every step he took; the desperation sparking the adrenaline that consumed his entire being.

   All this ‘ _fated’_  talk, he hated it. He absolutely despised the idea that nothing in his life was in his control—everything had already been planned out before he was even conceived. That was the single law of this universe that he had grown to hate so much.

   Not one person had ever questioned or ridiculed the madness that was succumbing to the flow of the world, simply accepting whatever was thrown their way without so much of a semblance of a complaint. In this world that he grew up in, he had seen far too many glazed eyes and empty words. People lived without passion, with no goal to aim for. After all, if their luck was good, nobody had to try. If their fate was to end up unhappy and dissatisfied? Well, that was just too bad.

But Taehyung was different.

   He realized he was willing to try to escape his shitty life even if it costed him being condemned by the rest of society. For all he knew, this was the only chance he had of being a conscious mind, and he damn well would do anything to keep himself alive. No way in hell would he let his life spiral out of control, especially when he knew jack shit about the afterlife.

But in his current situation, that might not be such a huge problem after all.

“Why are you running away from me?”

   The woman laughed deliriously, stumbling in her steps as she ran towards Taehyung. The knife if her hand glinted as she held it to the sun.

   Taehyung risked a glance behind him. “Shut the fuck up—you’re crazy, you’re fucking  _insane_. Get away from me!”

   It was fate, they told him. It was fate he ended up meeting a psychotic woman, it was fate she ended up stalking him, and it was fate that he would die by her hands. In a world where people did not bother to help one another out because everything was predestined, Taehyung was running from it all.

   “Even you running from me is fate itself!” The woman screeched. “The universe has decided that you will run! Fate has decided everything you’ll ever do.”

   Taehyung swallowed harshly, ducking his head to avoid staring into the soulless eyes of the passersby as they cocked their heads up to see what was going on.  _Damn bastards_ , he thought. He was about to get murdered in front of office-workers leaving their boring 9 – 5 desk jobs, and he could expect absolutely no help from them.

“Give it all up,” She cooed. “Come back to me, my love.”

   In his state of exhaustion, her gentle tone almost convinced him that she was his concerned beloved. What was the harm of accepting her embrace? She seemed harmless and almost like she genuinely cared for him. He considered slowing down and running into her arms—the temptation to stop, to succumb to whatever fate had in store for him was almost too much.

   “You’ve been running all your life, haven’t you?” Her voice was soothing, as if talking to a child. “You must be tired. It’s okay to stop, darling.”

   Taehyung was almost at his limit. Her words held nothing but truth, after all. He was sick of living like this. He had spent his entire life running away from destiny—his abusive father, his deranged mother, his cocaine-addicted sister. All he wanted was to be happy, for once in his sad life, but if fate really was real, they truly had nothing better to do than craft his life with nothing but misery and raw anguish. How joyous it was for him to wake up every morning in living hell, fearing for his own life every passing moment.

   He refused to kneel down and accept fate. He had managed to escape his horrible life once, he could do it again.

   But the sun was setting, and God knows how long he could survive in pure darkness with a woman out of her mind, determined to slit his throat with her cheap Costco knife hot on his heels.

   Just as it all became too much, just as his thighs started to burn and cramp up, just as he swore he could feel her clawed fingers creeping up to his neck, he was pulled harshly to the side.

   Taehyung tripped over his own feet and fell back into an alleyway, crashing to the ground with a dull thud. For the first time ever, he caught a clear view of the woman who was chasing him as she passed by the dark alley. Her ruby red lips, auburn hair, and unmarked porcelain skin seemed almost like a beautifully ugly lie, masking the horror that was underneath.

   He might’ve shouted out in terror when her enraged growl rang throughout the main street, if it wasn’t for the hand covering his mouth.

   A spike of fear struck Taehyung, realizing how much worse his situation had turned out. He was pressed tight against a muscular body, trapped in an alleyway with no way out. Sweat dripped down his back as he struggled against the man’s grip, pushing and kicking against the concrete in a futile act of defiance.

“If you want to live, shut up.”

   The voice of the man holding him captive was almost as out of place as his stalker’s pretty features-- a faint lilt in his voice; an odd mixture of a gentle tone and a demanding one. He froze in place, not knowing what would become of him if he were to resist.

   The man’s breath felt warm against the side of his face as he murmured into his ear. “She might still be out there, so calm down and hope she won’t check here.”

   Although he was glad that someone had helped him out when he was on the brink of collapsing, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of annoyance at how brutishly his saviour had pulled him aside. Not that there was much to protest about, considering he was merely bruised instead of, well, dead. Complaining about being alive was a poor thing to do.

   A few minutes passed by in silence, the only thing confirming that it wasn’t all just a fucked up dream was the sound of their breaths syncing up as they waited for the sound of heels to disappear completely.

   “Thank god that’s over.” The man sighed, releasing him. “I’m glad I got to you in time. You would’ve died if I wasn’t just around the corner.”

   “You’re right. Thanks—“ Taehyung turned around, and felt his words dissolve at the back of his throat.

   The man who had saved him was a being of pure beauty, with pouty cherry-coloured lips, a darkened gaze, and windswept hair the colour of the blush forming on Taehyung’s face, when he noticed the man’s shirt dipped low enough to expose a sliver of his chest and his defined collarbones. He was dressed in a manner he could only call flamboyant—loose white button up, a light-blue denim jacket, and pants so tight he could see every crevice of his muscular thighs.

   In the last rays of the dying sun, his skin was tinged golden; his purple-coloured sunglasses casting magnificent magenta against the high points of his face. The silver chain hanging from his neck glinted as the sun sunk in the horizon, and shadows engulfed his world in black and white.

Taehyung could barely breathe.

   The man’s pretty lips tilted up, amusement dancing across his expression. When he spoke again, Taehyung almost got a heart attack, which would have been a pretty bad way to end his eventful day. He leaned back coolly, a hand in his pocket, another outstretched. “I’m Jimin.”

   “Kim Taehyung,” He said, belatedly shaking his hand.

   “Will you be okay tonight? Think you can get home safely?”

   “I don’t think so…” Taehyung said, biting his lips. “She knows where I live. Been stalking me for a while.”

   “Yikes.” Jimin said, and he couldn’t agree more. The shorter man ran his fingers through his hair, an action that seemed almost like an intentional attempt to drive him crazy, judging from the way Jimin’s biceps strained against his clothes and his shirt rode up to expose his toned stomach.

   What was he doing? He barely escaped with his life, yet here he was getting infatuated by someone he barely knew in a shady alleyway. He might have just met the second killer of the night, if he wasn’t careful. It might be the leftover adrenaline coursing through his veins, but the way his heart was pounding against his chest was a blatant betrayal to the cautionary voice in his head.

   Jimin raised an eyebrow at him. “Wanna crash at my place? It’s not far from here, and I don’t think I can sleep comfortably knowing I left someone to die in the streets.”

“Will it be okay?” He asked, aware of how small he sounded.

“Of course.”

“But we don’t know each other.”

   Jimin’s eyes seemed sad as he held onto Taehyung’s hands and gave them a light squeeze. “Hey, I can see that you didn’t want to back down from the fight just now. I can see that you want to keep living on. Now, you can’t really do that if you stay out here tonight, yeah?”

Taehyung nodded slowly. “You’re not angry I defied fate?”

   He had gotten the infamous speech over and over his whole life, and it was always the same thing. Always go with the flow. Always listen to fate. Always accept whatever comes your way.

   Jimin snorted, brushing dirt and gravel off his pants. “As if I’d do that. I respect that you were public with your defiance.”

   “She kinda chased me out into the street, so.”

   Jimin chuckled lightly and pulled him out of the darkness. Taehyung was absolutely in awe of the creature in front of him. Figure ever so graceful, motions ever so fluid—he seemed like a ballerina, dancing underneath the streetlights whilst bathed in an orange glow.

   He wrapped an arm around him casually, and clapped his back. A smile stretched across his face. “Let’s get you home.”

   Taehyung could honestly say he had never met anyone quite like Jimin. After that night of hushed voices and shy small talk, they had exchanged numbers and promised to keep in contact. Despite never having met him prior to being saved, he felt at ease around Jimin, who shared his ideas and ridiculed the world along with him. Jimin spoke of fate with such scathing words, Taehyung almost couldn’t believe they came from someone so gentle and kind. He wondered what he had been through to harness such spite for the world.

   What did it take for someone whose soul was so patient and caring to break?  _What had the universe taken away from him to turn someone like him into someone so cynical?_

   It was like a breath of fresh air, meeting someone sane in the crazy world they lived in. In his 20 years of being alive, never had he heard someone else hate the concept of fate as much as he did. Jimin was an intelligent person with thoughts so complex, Taehyung could barely even begin to fathom them. His words, constantly laced with sarcasm, were endearing to him, who had only ever met people who were carbon copies of each other.

   It was nothing to celebrate, though, since his seething hatred for the system provided an unspoken implication that his past was filled with as much sorrow as Taehyung’s were.

   What followed were days of naiveté and the return of his cherished, long-lost innocence. He could finally smile again; feel the warmth in his heart. It was as if his monochromatic world was suddenly doused in every colour imaginable. Jimin introduced the soft spring and the cheerful summer within his cold Neverland, distracting him with his pure, clear laughter and bright smile.

   Being with Jimin was a whirlwind of emotions, Taehyung had learned to accept. One moment they would be laughing over carnival games, the next they’d be glaring at a preacher in unison. Bonding over their mutual disgust for every mindless being that roamed the world, they would spend the night visualising a world so beautiful, it was almost like an angel had ascended upon earth, scattering blooms of hope and small blessings all over Mother Nature herself.

   Such a child-like utopia was impossible, of course. The wistful look reflected in each other’s eyes were enough to remind them of the reality they still had to face once the sun rose.

   “Eden,” Jimin had murmured, his lips pressed against Taehyung’s palm. “Is it truly better to live in a world of blissful ignorance? Ones even the blessed creations had tried so desperately to escape from?”

   The hand around Taehyung’s wrist tightened its grip, and Taehyung looked up.

   Underneath the moonlight that streamed through his open lace curtains, Jimin seemed even more otherworldly. The cold night breeze blew loose strands of his now silver hair fell into his eyes, but it did nothing to hide the anguish that seemed to burn wildly in them. Taehyung feared that the flames might one day consume them both, leaving them to crawl out from the ashes of inevitable carnage.

   Still, Taehyung met his expectant gaze, sure he could feel the way his heart had sped up as his veins pulsed beneath his calloused fingertips. Electricity seemed to spread from where they touched, and Taehyung wondered if Jimin could feel that, too.

   If he could equate Jimin’s existence to another being, he would be Lucifer himself—the moonlight spilling into the room seemingly intent on bending around him; as if they had come from the heavens with the sole purpose of accentuating every curve and dip of his mortal body.

   His eyes flickered down to Jimin’s lips before he could stop himself. It might be the fumes of alcohol trailing from Jimin’s parted lips, but Taehyung was absolutely drunk on Jimin.

   So sinfully so, he had wondered what they tasted like against his. Would it burn like the single shot of whiskey that he had carelessly swilled down his throat? Or would it be as sweet as the cotton candy they had shared on a sunny walk out?

   Jimin’s touch left his skin, and an odd sense of loneliness and longing for something that could’ve been washed over him.

   “I’m scared.” Jimin admitted. His strong, steady gaze seemed like a mockery to Taehyung’s crackling nerves. “I don’t know what lies beyond this fucked up world we know. Even if it turned into the world we wanted overnight, will it truly be for the better?”

   “I don’t know.” His voice echoed throughout Jimin’s small living room. “We won’t ever know.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

   Jimin’s eyes seemed to pierce right through him. It was almost as if he could tear down every single wall Taehyung had put up over the years with a simple stare. It was an unnerving feeling, seeing eyes wise beyond their years on Jimin’s youthful face. It was a crude juxtaposition, except the restless discomfort within him also assured him that those eyes could belong to no one else.

   “Even if I die, I won’t ever know. There are many things we can change with the world, but this isn’t one of them.” Taehyung answered definitively.

    Jimin laughed breezily, covering his face with his arm. “You’re right, Taehyungie. There’s absolutely nothing we can do about it.”

   Though he laughed, Taehyung could almost hear the sadness painting it dark and bitter. He knew better than anyone how hard it was to feel contempt at everything in existence; the hopelessness that tried its best to grasp at the edges of his sanity.

   He felt helpless. Jimin had always been the one helping the other; warm arms open and a shoulder ready to cry on. Taehyung could see just how much suffering he was going through, but he wasn’t sure what to do. After all, he had lived all his life in solitude. He knew nothing of comforting words and gentle reassurance.

   He reached out timidly, vaguely remembering how fond Jimin was of holding his hands. Jimin appeared startled at the sudden contact, but intertwined their fingers gingerly.

   “Hey,” Taehyung ran his fingers through Jimin’s hair, like how he usually did whenever he found Taehyung upset. “Let’s go to sleep. It's already late.”

   Jimin gave him a weary smile. “You’re right.”

   Though they resented society and all its ridiculous rules, they still had to live as functional human beings; going to work, cooking dinner, cleaning up the house. Some days, the harsh reality would sink in and get too much for them, and they’d seek out the other.

  Countless nights had passed where they would fall asleep in each other’s arms, dried up tears smeared across their faces. They found a safe haven in one another, something neither had thought possible in their cruel world. They’d nod along to the other’s heated complaints; arms wrapped around each other; a drink brought to their parted lips; an empty promise of a better tomorrow.

But one night, something changed.

   As the empty bottles of cheap soju and whiskey piled up in the corner, their throats raw from drinking a bottle too plenty, they found themselves in each other’s arms once again. However, this time, instead of holding him tight and shushing him gently to sleep, Jimin had placed a hand on his jaw, and planted a chaste kiss on his lips.

   The answer to his questions, after months and months of silent contemplation, was finally there.

   Jimin, his sweet,  _wonderful_  Jimin, tasted of bitter alchohol and salty tears; a faint hint of artifical strawberry from the gum he favoured lingering ever so slightly. Taehyung kissed back, snaking an arm around the curve of Jimin’s waist to pull him closer.

   Taehyung, perhaps a man weak to temptation-- or maybe he had simply been weak to Jimin all along, had given in far too easily, allowing Jimin to press him into the couch, slowly tasting the fiery burn against his tongue. His hand gripped Jimin’s thigh, keeping him steady over him.

   When their kiss became too sloppy; too desperate—Taehyung pulled back.

   He gasped, the lack of oxygen and the dizziness after consuming too much alcohol finally settling in. He had never been one to stomach hard drinks, after all, even if he had built a decent tolerance since he started hanging out with Jimin more.

   Jimin swiped a lazy thumb over Taehyung’s bruised lips, and with every second longer he dragged his tantalizing touch over Taehyung’s bare skin, the more the temptation to succumb to the human incarnation of lust within him rose.

   But with a single glance at Jimin’s face underneath the dim, flickering lights, he knew he shouldn't.

   Jimin leaned down, trying to capture his lips once again, but Taehyung dodged, his eyes wide; a sudden burst of rationality clearing up the drowsy fog filling up his thoughts. The smaller man froze. 

   As his face caught the light, Taehyung saw him clearly for the first time that night in his drunken state, and his heart ached for the pitiful sight he saw.

   A single tear trickled down his flushed cheeks, his eyes clouded with desperation and lust, and a mixture of emotions Taehyung couldn’t quite place his finger on. He was trembling, the hands that were pressed against Taehyung’s chest clenched into little fists. His shirt had ridden up, revealing his toned stomach marred by old bruises and scars from his past. With his hair matted back, sweat glistening over his skin, he looked far too vulnerable; far too weak.

   Jimin burst into tears, sobs racking his body. In one swift motion, he pulled both arms over himself and brought his knees closer to his shaking body.

   Taehyung sat up, the familiar throbbing pain in his temple signalling sobriety forcing him to stay conscious. He carefully moved Jimin off of his lap, instead placing a firm hand on his shoulders.

   “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He asked quietly. He slowly stroked his back in repeated motions, the way a mother would calm her crying child.

   Jimin looked up, his eyes bloodshot. Whether they were from intoxication or his tears, Taehyung did not know. “Do you not like me? Am I not  _enough_?” He choked on a half-sob, half-laugh, ducking behind the crook of his elbow once again. “I get it. I’m an idiot to think I was worth anything.”

   Taehyung sat shell-shocked at his sudden declaration of insecurity. He shook his head, trying to compose himself. What was he  _thinking_? It was selfish of him to want to continue, especially when he knew about Jimin’s past with his sexually abusive father. His internalized trauma had turned him into someone who was constantly worried and seeked validation for his appearance, even if it meant seducing anyone with his body. He had heard Jimin speak about his journey on realizing how fucked up his mental state was, and had worked hard to escape his life of waking up in random people’s beds. He refused to be the one to undo years of precious progress, no matter how much he wanted to take Jimin for the sake of his own pleasure.

   “Of course it’s not that. I just…” He sighed, massaging the dull ache in his temple. “I don’t think it’s right to do this. Not when you’re out of it. Not when you’ll regret it afterwards.”

   Jimin’s puffy eyes peered back at him. He blinked, eyes darting around the room as if just realizing what was happening. Slowly, he uncurled from his position, gazing blankly at his bedroom door. “You’re…right. I’m going to go to sleep.”

   In a drunken stupor, he clumsily made his way to his room, and the door slammed shut behind him.

   That was the first time they slept in separate rooms during a sleepover, and nothing was ever the same afterwards, no matter how hard they tried to pretend it was. It wasn’t easy to forget how well your lips had fit against someone-- how bittersweet they had tasted against you; how heat had erupted anywhere their hands touched; how madly intoxicating their very presence was.

   They still sought out one another for an escape from the world, but Taehyung couldn’t help but notice how Jimin never reached for another bottle of liquor ever since that night between them had happened. Returning to normalcy after such a heated exchange had been painful for both of them, neither understanding what the other thought, neither sure of what they wanted from the other.

   They say a drunk mind speaks a sober heart, and Taehyung wondered if his sudden sexual advancement had been in the heat of the moment, or if he truly had feelings for Taehyung. Such questions haunted him, even as he smiled at Jimin’s stupid jokes; even as he spilled tears as Jimin spoke of his deadbeat father.

   And then, one day, he had had enough. He was tired of being plagued with questions, when he knew all along what his heart desired. He was certain he was in love with the man named Park Jimin, who saved him from the brink of death, who gifted him with elusive smiles and a sense of belonging. He had lived his life with hesitation and had lamented over his regrets, and for once, he was sure of something that he did not want to let go off.

   Jimin, dressed in the denim jacket he had lent so frequently to Taehyung that there was a hint of Taehyung’s scent mixed in with his own, looked as unreal as he always did. The Mickey Mouse hairband nestled in his faded silver hair made him look far younger than he actually was, and the yellow balloon tied around his wrist gave him an aura of childlike glee as they made their way through the crowded carnival they both loved so dearly.

   As Jimin’s tiny hands held onto his fingers, and he led Taehyung through the cobblestone path, he took a deep breath, and spoke up.

“Jimin.”

   Perhaps it was the tone of his voice, or the sudden pause in his steps, but Jimin immediately stopped, his entire body tensing up. When he turned around, the flash of sadness across his features made it clear to Taehyung that he had been dreading this very moment.

   Taehyung had rejected fate for all it was worth, but ever since he met Jimin, never had he begged for anything to be destiny more than when he started falling too fast, too deep for the kind, compassionate man.

   “I like you,” He said breathily. “I like you so much, it hurts. You can’t pretend there’s nothing between us. It was as if the universe had meant for us to meet.”

   For a second, hope lit up Jimin’s face. Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished, leaving his face blank, a cold, empty slate of emotions. He let go of Taehyung’s hands.

   “I’m sorry. Taehyungie, I really did like you,” Jimin said, his voice heavy. Every word he spoke seemed to cause him great pain. “Overtime, I noticed you started talking more and more about how the stars had aligned, how you finally found the rainbow after the rain they had talked about.”

   Taehyung felt his heart sank. He tried to speak, but the words seemed stuck in his throat.

   Jimin’s eyebrows furrowed. “I noticed too late. I should’ve known you’d eventually believe in fate. After all, weak people rely on hope to push them forwards.”

“But we’re soulmates,”

   “There’s no such thing as soulmates, Taehyungie.” Jimin took off his hairband, and pressed it into his hands. “The second you started to believe in that, you will believe that everything will work out in the end. You’ll go through a miserable state without trying to break free, simply because you believe it was meant to be.”

“Jimin, please, I’m  _different_ —“

   “I’ve seen my whole life fall apart because of so-called fate. I’ve seen my mother willingly take punches to her stomach because she thinks it was her destiny to meet my father. I’ve seen my friend without so much as try to avoid a fucking truck, simply because he thought it was all part of the universe’s schemes. I’m sick of it all, Taehyung.” His eyes seemed pain. “And I thought you of all people wouldn’t start to think like that.”

   Before Jimin could walk away, he instinctively grabbed his hands.

   Jimin looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

   “Jimin, you can’t honestly say it was just a coincidence that we met one another right before my life almost ended. You can’t  _possibly_  think that night you kissed me meant absolutely nothing.” Taehyung could hear how pathetic he sounded, desperation creeping up in his voice. “Our lives are entangled, as intertwined as it could get. We were meant to be, Jimin. So,  _please_ , stay.”

   The man he had loved with all his heart, watched him ramble with eyes of pity. “To be honest, I really did like you. Turns out you’re just like the rest of them.”

   He snatched his hand from Taehyung’s grip, and walked away, leaving Taehyung behind in disbelief.

   Did he really just see an entire year’s worth of friendship get flushed down the drain simply because Jimin wasn’t convinced they were supposed to end up together? Was all of his struggle for nothing, all this time? Would his tale end up in tragedy, as foretold by the Gods?

Taehyung fell to his knees. All he could do was scream until his throat was as raw as it had felt the night Jimin had trapped him inside a world of harsh kisses and hungry touches, because he, like Jimin, knew far too well that nobody gave a fuck about anyone in the twisted world they lived in.

_Utopia?_

   Taehyung scoffed. Was the world they had dreamed of a mere product of their combined naiveté and unrealistic ideals? The entire world revolved around a singular belief—there was absolutely no chance of changing that, try as they might. Wasn’t it easier to just simply assimilate, instead of fighting the flow? He was tired of running; his body screamed at him to rest and fade into the stream of general consciousness.

Fate. What a funny concept it was.

   Was it fate for him to end up being left by the one thing that was good in his life? Was it fate for him to lie broken on the cobblestone floor, and was it fate for him to eventually find himself perched on the edges of a bridge? Was it fate for him to look down into the endless depths of the swirling currents, and feel the rush of the wind tug on his shirt as he climbed the railing?

   He turned, facing the world one last time. He was terrified of heights, but at that moment, he felt as if his entire life had led up to that very moment. His eyes met the gazes of the crowd milling underneath him, staring at him with empty gazes—unmoving; watching his every move.

   He laughed at the irony of his situation. He, the man who had defiantly turned away from destiny itself from the very moment he could conceptualise it, was about to dutifully succumb to the call of the universe.

   “Taehyung, where have you been, my love? I’ve been looking  _all over_ for you!”

 Yes, perhaps it  _was_  fate, after all.

   He had nothing else to live for. He had no more regrets in his short life. Even then, no thoughts crossed through his mind. All he could see was the cloudless blue sky, the familiar face of a pretty woman, and the world that seemed to sway before him.

Taehyung smiled. This was it.

   He jumped, and embraced the cold darkness that greeted him. As the murky water entered his lungs, he laughed—a bitter, full laughter; full of anger towards the fate that had brought him into the fucked up world, yet filled with calm acceptance of the very same fate that was about to bring his life to an end.

Kim Taehyung disappeared underneath the raging waves, forgotten by all, but Park Jimin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
